


Plans To Be Unbreakable

by invertedrainbow



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, band!au in which gavin has hots for michael, but michael is an on-going on-off relationship with lindsay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invertedrainbow/pseuds/invertedrainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And needless to say they’ve gone a long way. Three albums later, and a solid on-going tour at the moment, the guys thought they were a solid group by then. No scandals of some sort, except some occasional one night stands by the Casanova Gavin Free, and drama bombs caused by the on-going on-off relationship of lead vocalist Michael Jones with the famous Hollywood actress Lindsay Tuggey. It was healthy, even, to have this news going around. They get heard. People buy their shit. It was good promotion. Free, too.</p><p>But their manager, Burnie Burns, begged to differ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plans To Be Unbreakable

When they were starting out as a band, they had a hard time determining a band name; mainly because they thought none of the names they came up with were good enough.

“We’re all classy fucks, so we deserve much more than dicks as a name,” Geoff told them after a jam set, and they all agreed. “Michael, your voice is phenomenal. Ray, your ability to play and sing at the same time is amazing. Gavin, we sound professional now every since you became lead guitarist. Ryan, the drums? _Godlike_. Jack, don’t get me started on your bass-playing skills. It’s _off the hook._ As for my synthesizer and I?”

“You guys blow dicks off, you know that,” Michael laughed, passing around the love and beer. “Man, I would love to just chill out and play Halo right now, you know? Couple of bevs. Achievements here and there.”

“We’re freaking Achievement Hunters by now,” Geoff slurred, and everybody paused. The air was tense, as if Geoff said something both stupid and brilliant at the same time.

“Achievement Hunter, huh,” Gavin grinned triumphantly, repeating the name slowly. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“Achievement Hunter it is, then,” Michael said with his bottle held up high, and there were cheers all around. Thus, Achievement Hunter was born.

 

 

And needless to say they’ve gone a long way. Three albums later, and a solid on-going tour at the moment, the guys thought they were a solid group by then. No scandals of some sort, except some occasional one night stands by the Casanova Gavin Free, and drama bombs caused by the on-going on-off relationship of lead vocalist Michael Jones with the famous Hollywood actress Lindsay Tuggey. It was healthy, even, to have this news going around. They get heard. People buy their shit. It was good promotion. Free, too.

But their manager, Burnie Burns, begged to differ.

“Gavin, stop hitting on fans. Michael, stop fighting with Lindsay, for Christ’s sake. Lindsay is a great PR material to the band, and if you guys split up, we’re screwed,” Burnie said in a meeting inside the cramped tour bus, where Michael and Gavin proceeded on not paying attention because the gents were trying to pour beer down Ray’s throat and Ray looks absolutely horrified. They chased around the bus like monkeys and Michael continued on laughing with Gavin. Burnie groaned and retreated back to his seat beside the driver.

“Though seriously, what is up with you and Lindsay again?” Ray asked as his attempt on pushing the gents off him became an effort in vain. Eventually, Michael helped him by trying to kick them on the balls, and thankfully, everyone dodged quickly enough. “Whew, thanks.”

“None of anyone’s business, that’s what,” Michael grinned, but Ray was concerned. “Besides, Burnie is a fucking idiot. Why would he think we can’t make our own news?” Ray tried to ask more about it, but Michael already has his back turned on him.

Gavin was in his bunk at the time, reading articles about the recent break-up of Juggey. Apparently it was caused by the lack of communication over the tour, which was obviously an assumption made by the press because Michael always has his phone on the ready, even if it was not allowed on the sets of shows or whatnot. Gavin knew there were things Michael wasn’t telling them, but how much, he wasn’t sure. Michael was climbing his bunk, which was on top of Gavin’s, and Gavin did a little wave.

“So you boned another fan?” Michael asked on his way up.

“No, you donut, I didn’t _bone_ a fan. It was a complete stranger. She didn’t even know who we are.”

“Somehow, I don’t want to believe that we’re that obscure. It’s a pride thing.”

Gavin laughed while Michael settled in his bunk. They continued to talk.

“Where’s our next stop?” Michael asked.

“Brooklyn? I’m not quite sure. Where’s the Barclays Center?”

They could both hear the roughhousing near the dining area and they smiled to themselves. They believed that no one’s going to change throughout the band’s history, unlike what the myths say. Michael believed that everyone had such a solid-formed character even before the band, and their beliefs were what made them such tightly-bonded people. Geoff Ramsey, their pianist, liked to get drunk. Gavin Free, the lead guitars and side vocals, liked saying shit without thinking. Jack Pattillo, their bassist, had his Facebook cover photo with a cat. Ryan Haywood, their drummer, was Jack’s genius twin from another mother. (And father.) Ray Narvaez, Jr., their rhythm guitarist and vocals, liked beating their butts in videogames.

Michael thought it was awesome though, how everyone met over video games yet had the same passion for music.

Of all his band mates, Gavin was his favourite. Somehow, when they first met, they instantly bonded over trivial things, like shitty indie videogames (while Michael raged and Gavin giggled to himself) and making houses in Minecraft. Gavin was different, in a way. He was an annoying prick but he will never hurt you in anyway, even though he was categorized as a douchebag by the press (because of the one night stands). Somehow, that just made the fans love him even more. But he lived by that stereotype, and if you need him, he will always be there. Often with a prank, but Michael didn’t want to get into details.

“It’s a long drive; wake me up when we get there, buddy,” Michael mumbled, and Gavin answered with a nod, knowing the redhead won’t see him anyway. Yet Michael knew what he did, and whispered “idiot” before taking a long nap.

 

 

 

“So why are we breaking up _again_?”

Lindsay Tuggey sighed into the phone, causing further frustration on Michael’s part. He wasn’t the kind of guy who initiates break-ups, but if you’re a piece of shit, he’ll call you out for it.

 _This_ was bullshit.

“Because! You guys have your tour, and I have my movie, and our scheds are conflicting and my manager hates your fucking guts! Come on, Michael, you know this isn’t working out!”

“Okay, fine. Let’s throw away the relationship part just because of your goddamned manager, I get it,” Michael’s tone was a mix of disappointment and disgust, and it scared Lindsay somehow. She knew about his temper but she never realized she’d experience it firsthand. “But we were _friends_ before we were lovers, Lindsay. I never thought you’d cut me off like this.”

“I am not cutting you off! Who the fuck said something about that?!”

“Your manager,” Michael gritted his teeth and Lindsay started cursing at the other end of the phone. He ended the call then, not wanting to hear anymore.

There was a meeting about it the next day. Lindsay’s manager, Gus Sorola, went to the liberty of inviting Michael and Burnie in some private restaurant where they could talk to each other without the paparazzi getting involved. Burnie asked Michael if he could behave for a straight hour and he said yes. Naturally he was quiet throughout the discussion, and Lindsay refused to look at him.

“All I’m saying is that,” Gus said, his hand expertly slicing the steak before him. “this relationship is bad publicity for both sides. Lindsay has a new movie coming up, and Michael has the tour with the band. The on-off thing is getting out of hand, so let’s spare ourselves with the trouble. Besides, being a bachelor would probably get you more fans, Michael,” Gus pointed at Michael, and he rolled his eyes.

Lunch was served and Michael barely touched his food. Burnie tried to tell him that it’s impolite to refuse the food, but he was blown off by Michael. “Michael, I thought we talked about this.”

“Well Burnie, if that’s all we could tell them, then fine, it’s over. No more Juggey for everyone. So Lindsay? Get the fuck away from me. Especially you, Sorola. Stay. The fuck. Away.”

Michael stood up from the table and turned to leave, with Lindsay’s futile attempt to talk to him heavy in his ears.

 

 

Achievement Hunter was the opening act for MTV Music Awards of 2013, so they were given first-class treatment by the company. The band wanted the penthouse to themselves, so they got it. Deciding on the sleeping arrangements was easy enough: Michael and Gavin, Ray and Ryan, and Geoff and Jack.

It was in the middle of the afternoon when Michael came back without Burnie, and the first thing he did was throw his phone in the middle of the room, breaking its LCD. When he reached the couch, he started shoving the pillows off it and flipping it off, causing inappropriate amusement from his bandmates. His phone was broken beyond repair.

“Gavin,” Geoff called out. “Go talk to him.”

“What?! Why me?”

“You’re the most annoying in the band yet he still talks to you. Go.”

“If I die, please tell Mum and Dad that I love them lots,” Gavin mumbled while the rest rolled their eyes. “If I die, I’m gonna haunt you guys in your sleep.”

Michael was the type of guy who freely expresses his rage, which is beneficial because he is least likely to explode on the wrong time. Gavin slowly opened the door to their shared room and he was welcomed with a yell. He braced himself for further shouts and said, “Hey Michael.”

“Goddamnit, this isn’t a good time!” Michael said with a snarl, rage thick on his voice.

“Michael.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“C’mere.”

When Michael turned to Gavin, his arms were stretched out for an embrace and not knowing how to calm down anymore, Michael accepted it. His face was buried on Gavin’s chest and he was screaming, hoping it would kill his throat forever. He decided that he didn’t want to sing anymore, because singing would require so much effort and he didn’t want to exert effort on something he didn’t want to do anymore.

Mainly because singing reminded him of Lindsay; how he would sing her to sleep in his arms when they watch the sunset by the beach, even before all this shit happened.

“Michael, shush, your voice,” Gavin’s hand was patting Michael on the back and soon Michael’s trail of thought was back on track and he was trembling. Gavin could feel the tears on his shirt. “Michael?”

“I didn’t ask for this to happen,” Michael admitted slowly, not knowing what else to do. Gavin was a great friend, and he was all Michael had. Besides, he trusted him. “I didn’t want to be famous, you know. I just wanted to play with the band. Then we got discovered. Fuck, I didn’t think it would be this hard. Now that all this shit is happening, I don’t know if I could do it anymore.

“Of course I’m hurt. Christ, Lindsay is one of my oldest friends. She was my best friend, even. We fuckin’ TP-ed our teacher’s house when she gave me a D for a paper I worked hard for. The thing that pisses me off right now is that no one understands that I didn’t just lose my girlfriend. I just lost my friend. Just because of her fucking manager who decided to dictate her life for her. And she just fucking agreed to it.

“I want to quit the band but I know how important this is for you guys. This has always been our thing, but I need to feel normal again, Gav. I want to have a normal life again. No paparazzi. No drama. No relationships.”

Gavin waited until Michael stopped talking before saying, “Do you want to write a song with me, then? For starters?”

“Gavin, did I fucking stutter?”

“No, you sausage! I’m just saying,” Gavin grinned to make it more convincing. “If you’re gonna say such strongly-worded stuff, you should at least make it useable, right? Besides, it’s been ages since I wrote for the album again.”

“Yeah, your songs for the first album were the classics of the band.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Will you write with me?”

“A collab? Sounds fun, if it wasn’t in the wrong timing, you piece of shit,”

 

 

Eventually the news got out, though. Michael was great at handling the pressure; he avoided the paparazzi in all cost, but if he was asked, he’d say that they’re “focusing on their own things” at the moment and would not be disturbed.

TMZ called it a conspiracy and Michael got pissed about it, so he wrote a draft of a song with extreme guitars and percussions. Gavin was there the whole time, and while Michael wrote, he played. This made Michael’s mood improve, and soon, they were in moderate pace again, and Michael was smiling.

They rehearsed for the performance for a bit, too. Achievement Hunter was known for half-assing rehearsals. They spent 10 minutes in rehearsals and went back to their hotel room to work on ideas for the album. Geoff gave them some drafts they didn’t get to use on the previous albums while working on present shit as well. The others supplied the missing parts and edited the lyrics. Soon, they were on a steady pace, conceptualizing, jamming, trying to feel how it sounded in the ears.

Geoff said it might be their greatest album yet.

At some point, when Michael was asked about the break up by the paparazzi, he simply said, “Please, feed my curiosity. It’s almost like you know more than me. And by all means, keep ‘em coming. Fuel my rage.”

And all those times, Gavin felt something in his stomach while he watched Michael work on the thing they loved the most, and it was bubbling and warm.

Like it has been there in the first place.

 

 

Naturally, there was a red carpet beforehand. Michael didn’t want to stay for the interviews but Burnie insisted.

“Come on, it’s been days since you talked about the break-up. They’re gonna need some clarifications soon.”

“I don’t fucking see how _that’s_ my problem, Burnie,” Michael rolled his eyes, crossing his arms for further illustration of his current mood. “Besides, I might say shit even your PR team can’t fix.”

“Try me.”

He knew Burnie wasn’t bluffing.

So Michael was on the red carpet five minutes later, a forced smile stuck on his face. Soon, there were interviewers around asking about the tour, and surprisingly they seemed to be genuinely interested with the band itself by not asking about Lindsay. Michael was calm throughout the questions for an obscure site online, probably because of Gavin’s arm resting around his shoulder. Probably the smile, too.

Probably.

There were huge flashes of lights on the opposite side of the red carpet area, and someone was calling out Michael’s name. Michael pressed on forward, dropping Gavin’s arms. There stood Lindsay, who was wearing the most gorgeous red dress, and how it accentuated her figure immensely. She was with her leading man, smiling for some pictures. She rushed the ban, greeting everyone without a hint of mockery or sarcasm. She excused herself with Michael in hand, and when they were far away, she left a kiss on Michael’s cheek and smiled sweetly.

Gavin watched the whole thing. There was something burning in his gut, but he ignored it. It was hard not to.

Michael’s lips tugged upward; that smile was the first one for the day. Lindsay’s smile expressed her excitement over their reconciliation, and soon there were photos taken, with their plastered smiles and hands on each other’s waist.

“We’re working on an album,” Michael whispered on Lindsay’s ear, and Lindsay’s eagerness towards it showed. She gave Michael a huge hug. “I knew you’d like it; I have to thank you.”

“Fucktard, take the credit. This is what you’re good at. I didn’t do anything about this; you’re just simply great at what you do.”

“Still, thanks,” Michael told her, and it was sincere. Seeing that, Lindsay cupped Michael’s cheeks and nodded reassuringly.

“Bring them hell, kid,” were Lindsay’s last words to him before the performance, and he’d be lying if he said that it didn’t pump him up.

“You handled that well,” Burnie praised, and Michael believed him, somewhat.

Michael missed her. He missed being friends with her, calling her a bitch and all that. It was fun to be with her, but it was more fun to be her friend just because you don’t have to pretend to be interested on shit she does. You can tell her everything she needs to know, and vice versa.

The rest of the band circled in when Burnie reminded, “It’s a fucking medley, so if you mess one up, you can regain your shit on the next.”

“You annoying pleb, we never mess up,” Gavin said, making them laugh.

“What about last performance’s slip-up?”

“That was intentional,” Gavin said, sticking out his tongue and running to the stage, Michael following closely behind him with Ray (with his signature rose). The gents shrugged while bolting to a run with a laugh. Eventually, they were laughing and introducing the band. The crowd went wild.

There was a slip-up made by Gavin.

Michael shot him a reassuring smile, and somehow, Gavin didn’t care as much about it anymore as he played on.

 

 

There was an after party that MTV hosted for the artists to mingle and naturally, Ray didn’t go. Ryan decided to go with him because he was feeling sick for some reason so he wanted to rest for the night. (The lads believe it’s because of the chicken drumsticks he ate when they were waiting backstage.) Geoff and Jack stayed for a couple of drinks before retreating to the hotel too. When Gavin asked why, Geoff simply said that he was growing old. Jack laughed at his misery.

Michael had other plans that night, though. Gavin knew he was acting weird ever since they met up with Lindsay, but he was polite not to comment on it. He knew Michael well; get drunk beyond relief and forget what happened.

Gavin told himself that he would control himself that night because Michael needed him the most, and somehow it was effective. He didn’t hit on any girls in the after party, how hot they may seem. He actually found himself looking after Michael, who was dancing to Swedish House Mafia like it’s no one’s damn business. He was certainly calling everyone’s attention though; he was suddenly dancing with Lindsay and Gavin wasn’t sure if he should pull Michael off.

They seem friendly, though. They were talking by the ear because of the loud music, but somehow that just made Gavin think that he really needed to get Michael off the dance floor. They were impossibly close, their chests joined together as they swayed to the music like it was played for them. People were starting to whisper about them, asking if they were back together somehow.

Gavin’s chest ached for him, ached to pull him away, to _own_ him, but he knew he wasn’t in the place to do so. Instead, he stood in his ground firmly and watched, hoping to be seen.

He wanted to believe that this was what friends would do, but he would be lying.

Friends would try to block of paparazzis snapping endless amount of pictures of his friend hooking up with his ex, though. But he felt betrayed, like there was something missing in the picture and he can never find it because he can’t function like this. He can never be a replacement, he knew, but he hoped he could be.

He started to wonder when he fell for Michael Jones.

Soon the pair was kissing their faces off, like their lives depended on it, and every movement just sent pangs on Gavin’s chest, and he wanted to leave. But he knew he can’t because Michael was intoxicated, and he’ll probably get killed if he went home alone. So he stayed.

He checked his phone for any news about the pair, and voila! Not five minutes and the fans were feeding on it like crazy.

 

 

 

“Great party, right?!”

Gavin had a hard time supporting Michael’s dead weight but he ignored it, so he could take care of him. Michael would slur on his words and his legs wouldn’t function as much as Gavin had hoped, but they managed to reach the limo, and that was enough for him. He was tired, physically and emotionally, and he needed some sleeping pills so he could have a nice sleep that night, but Michael was wailing and making absurd noises and just being annoying which was supposed to be Gavin’s job.

Naturally, Gavin got pissed.

“ _Michael, shut the fuck up before I do something I would regret for the rest of my life._ ”

Michael stayed silent for a complete 30 seconds with a grin on his face, and by then, Gavin knew he should have expected it, but when Michael started singing My Little Pony songs at the tops of his lungs, something in him snapped.

Before he knew it, he was pushing Michael down the limo seat, kissing him with much fervour and need that it was almost unlike him. He was never the type who would get tied down by someone like this; he lived off one-night stands enough to know that love doesn’t exist, that it’s an idea for fools, that he can never fall in love even if he wanted.

He thought wrong.

He was masochistic, that way, how he wanted this attention yet he knew it was temporary and fake and alcohol-driven. How he would tilt his head and kiss him impossibly deeper, because he was kissing back and—

Michael was kissing back.

And he was tugging Gavin’s tie off.

“Michael,” Gavin panted against Michael’s mouth, desperate to grab onto anything, his hands removing Michael’s coat, unbuttoning his shirt with his trembling fingers, excitement and fear overtaking him. “Oh, you’re so beautiful, my little Michael…”

It was pathetic, how they kissed and touched in that limo. Gavin’s hands wandered far and wide, covering much ground as possible, kissing every spot, scared to miss anything because he was unsure if it was gonna happen again. Michael was dazed but responsive, his eyes watery but sincere.

“Gavin,” Michael called out, and they were kissing again. Gavin was grinding down on Michael’s hard-on, and Michael was thrusting for friction, and somehow Gavin wanted to believe that Michael wanted this as much as he did.

Of course, he knew he could dream.

Outside, the lights illuminated what little Gavin could see. How Michael’s mouth grew agape in pleasure as they rocked with a steady rhythm; how smooth his skin was, how tears trailed down as he unbuckled his belt.

How he smelled distinctly like Lindsay, and how Gavin wanted to change that.

“Should I stop?” Gavin asked against Michael’s neck and he shakes his head. “Are you sure?” He nodded accordingly, but Gavin prodded his lips with his fingers and said, “Cat got your tongue?” He kissed him again, slowly and softly before saying, “Lick these for me, then.”

And Michael did, tongue travelling over his digits, slicking them with his saliva.

Gavin tugged Michael’s pants down in a swift motion, prodding Michael’s hole with his slick fingers, and Michael started to squirm. “Relax,” Gavin whispered, knowing how it works and how uncomfortable it was to be in his place.

It all went too fast. Soon Gavin was scissoring him open, trying to insert a finger after another in the quickest time possible, knowing that they don’t have enough time to finish it there. Then he was gritting his teeth and grunting how tight Michael was, how deep he was in him, and Michael was biting Gavin’s neck because he can’t scream enough. Upon hitting a bundle of nerves, Michael started moaning against Gavin’s collarbone, spilling Gavin’s name with it, with a tone that could be a mix of love, lust and regret.

When they came, Michael was screaming out Gavin’s name.

Everything was a blur in that limo, and Gavin wished the night wouldn’t end.

 

 

 

He woke up in the hotel room in clad boxers and with a heavy feeling, and when he tried to grab a bottle of Gatorade in the mini fridge, a jolting pain in his back side begged to differ and he plopped down the bed with a groan and a frustrated curse. Not knowing what to do, he tried calling out to someone to help him sit up, at least, and there goes Gavin, helping him up.

By then he could see Gavin’s neck, how bruised it was with hickeys and bites, and Michael flushed at the sight.

He knew he got drunk, but how drunk was he, exactly? He remembered vague images of a figure over him in the limo, all strong and muscular and warm. There was a huge amount of kissing and biting and sucking, and a significant amount of fluids excreted from their systems.

“Rough night?”

Gavin’s gaze was surprised, but it eased out with a weak smile before replying a small yes, to which Michael laughed. It felt heavy in his ears, how forced he made it sound.

“I should say the same to you,” Gavin said, handing a small mirror for Michael to see. “Was she tippy-toppers?”

“She was _top_.”

“Team Nice Dynamite classing it up, huh?”

The air was heavy yet Gavin managed to laugh. As soon as Michael’s phone started ringing, Gavin escaped with a yawn before Michael could start another conversation with him. He answered it on the third ring.

“ _You conniving sonnuvabitch_ ,” Burnie was telling him over the phone, and he answered with a confused grunt. “ _You fucking hooked up with Lindsay again, you asshole! Even if we had the papers and everything!_ ”

“What the fuck are you talking about Burnie, I didn’t fucking hook up with anyone last night you fucking moron,” Michael could taste the lie in his mouth yet he kept on going. He didn’t know why he said it, either. He knew he slept with someone, and in the back of his head he knew who it was, but somehow he just wanted to ignore the facts and go with what he’s winging right now. “Yes, I fucking kissed her a lot, was that so bad?”

“ _Well, if Lindsay goes around telling everyone that you guys are back together, then yes! Jesus Christ Michael, what am I supposed to tell the press?_ ”

“Wait, what? _Lindsay told the press_?” There was complete disbelief in his tone because he knew Lindsay well; she never associates herself with the paparazzi, even with the press. Her press agent isn’t the type who goes around parading intimate details about her relationship either. Something was off, and he wanted to know what was happening. “You have to let me talk to her, at least. And don’t fucking yell at me, it’s 8 in the morning you dipshit.”

 

 

 

On his side, Gavin pulled his comforter over him so he could read the articles in peace.

Apparently, Michael and Lindsay are back together.

“Lindsay told the press?!” He heard Michael ask, and that was enough of a proof.

He closed his eyes shut and tried to forget; tried to heal his heart from the heartbreak that he never thought was coming, tried to remember that the world was a fantastic place and that a heartbreak won’t kill him. Even if the heartbreaker _was_ the best thing that ever happened to him.

 

 

 

“Were you followed?”

“Nah, I had my PA tell my manager that I went shopping, no big deal.”

They were in the outskirts of Brooklyn, in an obscure coffee shop known for their reputation as  a hipster place. Still, no one knew about it.

“So what is this, exactly? What we did last night?”

“Michael,” Lindsay smiled as he reached for his hands across the table, patting them softly. “We can’t go back to our relationship.”

“I know, but what the fuck is this then?” Michael had to ask because he was confused. The pain from his backside was still there, tying him down into thinking that he did have sex with someone last night. The rough and kinky one. Still, he wanted to ignore it. “We should set down rules here, come on.”

“Okay, how about we become likely friends and we stop kissing each other when we meet?”

“Also, don’t tell everyone we’re back together when we’re not.”

“Wait, _what_?”

“It’s all over the tabloids,” Michael told her the details, and Lindsay’s expression turned… bad. Michael continued. “Apparently, you were going around telling people that we’re back together. Seriously, I have no fucking clue what is up with these paparazzis.”

“They said _WHAT_?!” Lindsay yelled, and the people in the coffeehouse were looking at them then, whispering about their identities and how they looked familiar. “This is a misunderstanding! I never said anything, and I’m pretty sure Gus didn’t, either!” She looked genuinely concerned before saying, “Michael, we are never getting back together.”

“I know,” Michael told her with a smile. “I fucking know, so go back to being my bad-ass lady friend.” He stood up then, hugging Lindsay tightly. “Tell me the details, okay? Fucking bring them hell. Those bastards need to fall down their goddamned pedestals.”

“Oh, I will; you fucking bet I will.”

 

 

 

By the time Michael came back, Gavin was already in the tour bus and their room seemed empty. He finished packing his shit and proceeded to the bus, where his bandmates and manager waited for him. Soon they were on the road, back to their natural state: bums until they reach the next city. When they asked about where he went, he answered, “I, uh, met up with Lindsay.” Burnie looked concerned, so he immediately said, “It wasn’t true. We’re not back together. Not now, not ever.”

Gavin was leaning against the fridge and he scoffed. Michael saw him and called him out for it. 

“Yeah, do you honestly think we’d believe that crap again?” Gavin was stoic, unimpressed with the whole declaration. Michael tried to ignore the sass but Gavin continued. “I thought you wanted to focus on the album? Why are you putting the band in so much drama? The whole kiss and make-up with Lindsay in the after party was the icing to everything. We’re in deep shit, you fuckin’ selfish asshole.”

“Wait, what the fuck are you getting mad at me for?!” Michael was getting pissed, and it showed. “And how the fuck did you even know all of this shit?”

“How did I—“ Gavin looked insulted before yelling, “I STAYED THERE FOR YOU! OF COURSE I WOULD KNOW! I SAW EVERYTHING!”

Michael would be lying if he said that Gavin didn’t scare him. He didn’t even know what face he was making by then, he just felt like he needed to apologize and tell him that he _knew_ what they did, and he’s sorry for being so insensitive…

“I quit the band.”

And Michael was staring at Gavin, whose eyes lost their familiar sparkle. He broke the gaze by getting his stuff from his bunk and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Geoff was rushing to him, saying that it’s not worth getting mad over, that Michael’s a natural dick so he says stuff he doesn’t understand, that he’s a prick who doesn’t appreciate shit done for him, but Gavin was walking away, asking the driver to stop the tour bus, and they could only watch as Gavin hitched a ride from a trucker.

Probably going to the next city to fly back to England.

“So that’s it? We just watch him walk away and continue with the tour?” Ray asked, his stare set on Michael. “You knew what you were doing to him, Michael.”

“What are you talking about, Ra—“

“Don’t give me that malarkey. Jesus Christ, Michael, he obviously has feelings for you and you just stood him up like that. God, I hate you.” Ray growled, and soon Ryan and Jack were behind him, in case he did anything weird. “I heard you two last night.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!”

Michael was down on his knees by then, after Ray punched him in the gut, and Ryan and Jack were pulling him off as he tried to land another on Michael’s face. Geoff unwillingly helped Michael up as he writhed in pain, making him sit down.

“ _You’re a fucking coward!_ ” Ray screamed at him. “Gavin has been an annoying prick but he doesn’t deserve this, you asshole! Gavin was there when you needed him and now you treat him like crap, he deserves more than that from you. You don’t _own_ this band just because you’re the vocalist and you have the famous girlfriend. We made this band because we were idiots back then and we made decent music. Now that Gavin’s gone I don’t think I can do this anymore. I don’t want some petty replacement either. Our manager is shit, so I quit too.” Ray shoved Ryan and Jack off him and went straight to his bunk, and while cleaned his bunk, the gents towered over Michael.

“Michael, what the fuck are you doing?” Geoff asked him, his fatherly tone evident. “You know I’m fond of you because we both swear a lot and you consider me as a father figure, but what the fuck is this? We are in our maturity stage, and this album is gonna blow everyone away. In three days we’ll be announcing that in Barbara Dunkelman’s stupid show, and our fans are gonna rave about it online, but without Gavin, we don’t function. Neither do you.

“Look, you probably did shit with Gavin, and trust me, I don’t care. Because you two are idiots who can stand up for yourselves and I could see how happy you are when you’re with him. I probably don’t know much about your relationship with Lindsay, but if I should learn anything from that, it’s that you give it your all. Your relationship with Lindsay is obviously wrecked at this point, so why bother hurting Gavin? Is it even worth it?”

“I never wanted to hurt him, Geoff.” Michael admitted sadly. “I just fucking suck at this. Feelings.”

“So does he, but you have to know that you are partly at fault in this, so you have to take responsibility.”

“I understand.” Michael said. He pointed at Burnie. “Burns, you’re fired.” He pointed at Geoff. “Geoff, you’re in charge now.” He stood up and grabbed his duffel bag.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Ray asked, and Michael grinned.

“Postpone all our shows for the next three days. Meet me at the Dunkleman show. I’ll bring back Gavin.” He pointed at Ray. “Ray, don’t quit yet you piece of shit, you gave us sheet music that only you can play.” He turned to Burnie. “What the fuck are you still doing here.”

“I need my pay, you fuck,” Burnie had his arms crossed. “This is a bad idea. The whole postponing thing. The public is fickle.”

“No one asked you, now shoo. We’ll send your last pay on your bank account,” Geoff told him, and Burnie went ahead and called some people. After five minutes, there’s a sedan waiting for him and he said his goodbyes. He seemed to not care much about losing his job, and Michael thought he looked happy to leave? Whatever.

Michael turned to Geoff. “We know his bank account?”

“No, not really. Nope.” Geoff answered nonchalantly.

 

 

 

He found Gavin in Austin, their hometown. It was day 2 of his search. He was in his old apartment that he apparently still owns, packing his shit up. Michael thought that it was typical for Gavin to think this way, because his home isn’t here in America, but somewhere else.

But he always hoped that Gavin found home in the band. Michael guessed he really did, but he just ruined the whole image.

When he entered the apartment, Gavin didn’t seem to mind his presence. He kept ignoring him as usual, stacking boxes here and there, boxing shit up, pretending that Michael’s presence didn’t bother him at all. But it did and it showed, on how he trembled and made too much noise, almost to the point where it seemed like he was thrashing his stuff here and there. Michael sighed.

“Hey, Dickie Bitch.”

No response. He tried again.

“Gavvy.”

No response.

“Vav.”

No response.

“Gav.”

None.

“Gavin David Free.”

“What the bloody hell do you want, Michael?”

“Good to see that your ears still work. Hear me out, okay?” Michael grinned toothily. Gavin rolled his eyes and went back to packing. “Hey, you dipshit. I looked for you for two days and now that I found you, you’re gonna ignore me? What the fuck, asshole?”

“I don’t have to listen to you, you know,” Gavin said, trying to pace away from him as possible. “But knowing you, you wouldn’t stop until I listen. You’re such a fucking prick sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Michael joked, but after saying that, he immediately wanted to take it back. Gavin froze on his spot.

“Sure, maybe I do love you, but I’m a bloody idiot, so let’s just save ourselves from the shame and long talk, shall we? My flight leaves tomorrow, and as you can see, I have shit to pack up. I would appreciate it if you leave me alone.”

“Come on Gavin, do you honestly expect that I’d leave you again once I found you? The band isn’t complete without you, and Ray refuses to play if you’re not around. Frankly, so does everyone,” Michael said, sitting down the couch. Gavin was still rummaging his things, slowly now. “Even me.”

“I disgust you, so stop lying to me,” Gavin said, unsure what to do then. Should he stand or sit? “I took advantage of you when you were drunk and you obviously don’t remember any of thi—“

“I know, we fucked. No big deal,” Michael smiled warily, gesturing Gavin to come sit with him. “It won’t take long, just let me apologize. If you don’t come with me, then we disband, simple as that.” Gavin walked around the table to sit across Michael, and the redhead sighed. “I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your feelings. Ray was right, you were trudging along for as long as I can remember but I never took you seriously. I always thought it was a Team Nice Dynamite thing.

“So, maybe I was drunk then, but I knew what I was doing, okay? You didn’t take advantage of anyone. I was aware of what we were doing but I was wary of what happens afterwards. Then Lindsay and I met up and I got surer than ever. That Lindsay and I are over and that maybe I wanted—“

He stopped halfway and contemplated. What was it that he really wanted? He ended things with Lindsay because he was tired of living under the spotlight and because Lindsay wasn’t the same as she was the first time he met her and fell in love with her. But Gavin…

Gavin never changed.

“Maybe I wanted you,” Michael finished. He stood up and smiled. “If you want to meet us at LA, we’ll be doing that show. For the announcement of the album. If not, we’ll announce the disbanding.” As he walked to the door, he said, “I really am sorry, Gav. I hope you know that.”

 

 

 

When his plane landed in LA, he knew he had a bad decision of leaving Gavin with the choice. Explaining it to the band wasn’t easy, either.

“You did _what_?” Ray asked, unsure of what he was hearing.

“We’re disbanding?” Jack supplied.

“ _What?!_ ” Ryan added.

Geoff stared at the three with an unimpressed expression. Michael sighed as he tried to explain; that Gavin has every right to choose if they’ll continue the band or disband as likely friends, but Ray insisted that they had every right for that choice as well.

“Why, can you play without him?” Michael asked. Ray opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, he just shook his head. “My point exactly.”

“Sure, we have every right to a decision, but if Gavin doesn’t play, no one will,” Geoff said.

They were standing in front of the building for the show, unsure if they should enter. They had less than five minutes to decide, and Gavin was nowhere in sight. They all turned to Geoff to look for answers, where he simply said, “We wait ‘til the end.”

Which was exactly what they did five minutes later in the booth as Barbara Dunkelman started his radio show, telling the listeners that Achievement Hunter was in the booth for an announcement later on, so they should tune in.

Chances were, they would be interviewed on the last thirds of the show.

Barbara Dunkelman’s show reached 20 million listeners every week, and the chance of the news blowing out of proportion was a whooping 85%. Their fans were very amazing people, but they tend to get carried away when they receive news that concerned any of them. They didn’t even want to think about how the feedback would be if Gavin didn’t arrive on time.

The songs were played, calls were made. Barbara cued that they will be on air in five, and Michael started to panic.

Five minutes later, they were pushed in the booth.

“We have Achievement Hunter in the booth this afternoon for some announcements! First of all, guys, congratulations on the awesome tour! Though I heard that you postponed the shows for the three previous days, tell me what’s up with that,” Barbara said over the microphone, watching the fidgeting men on their seats. “You have to know that it is tense as hell here, folks. And oh, what’s this,” She counted agonizingly slow, seeing that Gavin wasn’t present. “You seem to be missing your other guitarist.”

“Yeah, we had to postpone our three previous shows for some private matters. Rest assured, we will be announcing when we’ll have the performances in lieu of those,” Geoff supplied, his tone completely professional.

“But more on that later,” Michael started, his throat tight and raspy. “First, we want to announce something to the fans.” He turned to the band who nodded in his direction. “We would like to announce that the band is dis—“

**_tap tap tap_ **

Over the clear window that showed the control panel of the station Gavin stood, tapping on the glass and waving with that obnoxious grin of his, a sticky notepad and marker in hand. He was ushered in by the producer of the show, while the gents sighed in relief. Upon entering, Gavin started sticking sticky notes on their foreheads with “prick” written on it. It caused a huge laugh from Barbara. Michael’s smile was wide, and Ray had to elbow him to continue on the announcement.

“—covering new sounds for our new album to be released this December!”

Gavin was sitting beside Michael, and under the table, their fingers intertwined secretly as they both smiled, answering every question thrown at them. Ray shot Michael an apologetic smile, and Michael just nodded. A few callers were entertained, and some asked about how the album was gonna be like.

“It is our best album yet,” Geoff answered, and soon enough, they got the response they wanted: there were more callers, demanding for a preview.

One asked about Juggey, and they all cautiously turned to Michael who sighed and said, “Sadly, we can’t be together anymore. But we are good friends.”

There was a contented smile tugging Michael’s lips and somehow, it felt like he was back home again.

 

 

 

In the tour bus, there were cheers all around for Gavin’s return. Geoff called him a melodramatic dickhead. Ryan said that he knew he’d return. Jack doubted that and paid Ryan 50 bucks. Ray was genuinely happy with his Taco Bell soft-shell taco.

“You wanted me,” Gavin said in a singsong, earning a blush from Michael.

“Don’t push your luck, lover boy,” Michael growled, which apparently didn’t work on Gavin anymore.

“My little Michael wanted me to fuck him.”

“Oh my god Gavin, shut up,” Michael mumbled before tackling him on the ground, kissing him along the way. The rest of the band asked them to keep it down so they could sleep, and Gavin laughed against Michael’s lips.

“You love me,” Gavin said with disbelief, and Michael nodded a little too eagerly before diving in for more.

 

 

 

 _Rolling Stone_ called “ _Let’s Play”_ , Achievement Hunter's fourth album, the album of the decade.

**Author's Note:**

> please excuse the grammatical errors, i have been writing this for a week and a half and i just want this out of my system
> 
> also some feedback would be tippy toppers u_u


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